


Intro to Pottery

by NachoDiablo



Category: Black Panther (2018), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Comeplay, First Dates, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Samwich
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:08:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28012926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NachoDiablo/pseuds/NachoDiablo
Summary: Sam and Bucky are just trying to avoid their feelings and pass their blow-off class. The addition of a mutual crush does not make either of these things easier.
Relationships: Bucky/Sam Wilson/M'Baku, James "Bucky" Barnes/M'Baku, James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson, M'Baku/Sam Wilson
Comments: 15
Kudos: 45
Collections: Marvel Reverse Big Bang 2020





	Intro to Pottery

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Emmatheslayer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmatheslayer/gifts).



> Written for MRBB, thanks mods for all your hard work. Thank you Emma for the cute art prompt! I had the best time writing the dynamics for these three. And of course, <3 <3 <3 to [leila](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_majesti/pseuds/a_majesti) for making my writing better.

“We’re gonna be late,” Sam called as he poured coffee into two thermoses. 

Bucky’s toothbrush-muffled grumbling filtered from the bathroom down the hall to the kitchen, but Sam couldn’t make out what he was saying. He didn’t bother asking for clarification. Bucky would be sure to continue his complaints later.

Sure enough, as Sam was zipping up his backpack, Bucky wandered into the kitchen with a sleepy scowl. 

“Doesn’t matter if we’re late,” Bucky said as he rummaged through the cabinet. “Pottery’s a blow off class. The professor won’t care.”

“Pretty sure the professor doesn’t think of it as a blow off class,” Sam replied dryly.

“Maybe not out loud, but-- aha!”

Bucky let out a whoop of victory as he brandished a foil package of frosted Pop Tarts. “Knew we had some left,” he crowed.

Sam would have been annoyed; he’d spent a solid fifteen minutes pawing through the cabinet that morning looking for Pop Tarts to no avail. But he also knew that Bucky was going to give him one of the Pop Tarts without him having to ask, so he let it go.

With their backpacks slung over their shoulders and coffees in hand, they headed out of their apartment and began the mile walk to campus. Bucky yawned as he munched his Pop Tart. Sam tried not to find it cute, with marginal success.

Sam and Bucky had met the previous year through Steve, a mutual friend. Sam and Steve had been paired up as roommates their freshman year, and they’d instantly become inseparable. Bucky had transferred to their university last year. He and Steve had grown up together, and Steve had been overjoyed to have both of his best friends together.

It hadn’t been smooth sailing, but eventually Sam and Bucky had brokered a friendship on their own terms. So when Steve had graduated early and Bucky’s exchange student roommate had returned home, Bucky had moved in with Sam for their senior year.

“Is this the right place?” Bucky squinted up at the worn brick of the art department building.

Sam shrugged. “I dunno. I’m an engineering major just like you. Hence why we’re here in the first place, getting that last minute art credit in for graduation.”

“Good point.” Bucky leaned against the door to hold it open for Sam. “After you,” he said with a nod.

“Thanks.” Sam kept his eyes averted from Bucky’s soft smile. They’d only been living together for a month. It was too early to get caught up in a crush that would make things awkward and inevitably end in disaster.

The pottery studio was at the back of the building, down a narrow hallway painted with brightly colored abstract murals. The doors to the studio opened up to a large, open space with vaulted ceilings and skylights. Shelves lined every available wall space, crammed with clay creations at varying degrees of skill. Work stations with potter’s wheels and stools were arranged into four groups of three. 

“You wanna grab a couple of seats?” Sam asked. He scanned the room; most of the seats were empty as the other students milled around the room, chatting and checking out the pottery on the shelves.

Bucky shook his head. “Gotta check in with the professor first.”

“About what?” An unfamiliar voice chimed in.

Startled, Sam turned around to find a tall man with an eye patch standing behind them, arms crossed and expression stern. Beside him, Bucky cleared his throat and took a step forward.

“Professor Fury?” Bucky asked hesitantly. “I’m James Barnes. We emailed about accommodations for my arm? Since I’ve got limited mobility.”

Fury nodded then walked briskly towards the triad of work stations in the back corner of the room. Bucky and Sam exchanged wary expressions, then followed. Fury gestured to the wall, where one shelf held a collection of tools.

“I can show you how to use these as you progress,” he said. “But don’t be shy about experimenting. Find what works best for you.”

He pointed to the potter’s wheel directly next to the shelf. “There will be assigned seats in this class. That one will be yours. Keep it neat, ask for help if you need it. Your friend can take the one next to you.”

Bucky nodded. “Yes, sir.” He slung his backpack over his chair and sat down. Sam followed suit, settling in at the adjacent chair. He was about to lean over and whisper something snarky to Bucky, when he noticed that the third chair in their group was also taken.

The occupant was tall, well over six feet by Sam’s guess. He was broad from shoulder to waist, with thighs that strained against his expensive looking jeans. One thick arm was folded across his chest, while the other held his phone up as he scrolled, seeming bored. 

Sam took in the crisp lines of his fade, the neatly trimmed beard smoothing over the soft curves of his face, the little furrow of mild annoyance in his brow as he read something on his phone. He’d never seen this guy around campus before; he’d have remembered someone this good looking.

Two dark brown eyes snapped up from the phone to meet Sam’s, with one eyebrow raised. Hastily, Sam looked away in an attempt to look like he hadn’t been staring. His gaze fell to Bucky, and he nearly burst into laughter.

Bucky’s ears had turned bright pink at the tips as he stared at the new guy. Sam could see little hearts forming in his eyes. A flare of something that felt suspiciously like jealousy flared in Sam’s stomach, but he quickly snuffed it out.

“My name is Bucky.”

“I know,” Sam said, annoyed at the breathy lilt in Bucky’s words.

Bucky tore his gaze away from the new guy to shoot an incredulous look at Sam. “Wasn’t talking to you.”

“Oh. Right.” Heat flooded Sam’s face, and he gave a silent prayer of thanks that he wasn’t a blusher. The new guy snickered, but did not reply. Sam turned to him and tried for an easy smile.

“I’m Sam,” he said, hoping he sounded casual. 

“That’s nice.” The new guy’s voice was deep, with a hint of melody. He looked back down at his phone and kept scrolling.

“Well?” Sam asked. “What’s your name? Or are we gonna spend all semester not talking to each other?”

“You don’t need my name to talk to me,” the new guy pointed out with a deadpan expression. “You’re doing just fine without it.”

There was just enough warmth in his voice to make Sam confident that he was teasing. Sam grinned at him, and was pleased when the corner of the new guy’s mouth curved upwards for a second.

“Maybe Sam will do fine, but I’m gonna struggle.”

Sam fought to keep from rolling his eyes. Bucky wore his most charming smile, which Sam hated because it actually worked. He had seen it in action, allowing Bucky entry into movies without a ticket, free toppings on his froyo, Ketel One at well liquor events, not to mention multiple dates.

The new guy was not completely immune, though he looked more amused than dazzled. “Fine,” he said. “My name’s M’Baku. Will you stop asking questions now?”

“I certainly hope so,” Fury interjected from the front of the room. 

The rest of the class passed by in silence as Fury reviewed the syllabus. Sam snuck a few furtive glances at M’Baku, who remained focused on Fury as he took notes on a tablet. 

He noticed Bucky staring as well, both at M’Baku and himself, but he pretended not to notice.

~

“Can’t believe we’re falling behind in a pottery class,” Bucky grumbled. He knocked his shoulder against Sam’s as they approached the art building. “This was supposed to be an easy A!”

Sam couldn’t help but smile. Bucky wasn’t actually doing that poorly in class. His pots weren’t going to be front page on Etsy any time soon, but he was technically proficient enough for Fury to be satisfied. And he’d gotten impressively creative with the accessibility tools. 

Sam, on the other hand, was a terrible potter. Try as he might, he couldn’t get his fingers in sync with the clay. His potter’s wheel produced lump after lump of disappointment. And despite his hard ass persona, Fury seemed just as frustrated with Sam’s struggles. Which was why he had allowed Sam to use the studio after hours to catch up.

“I appreciate your support,” Sam told Bucky as they headed down the hall. “But you don’t have to hang around all night.”

Bucky shrugged. “I don’t mind. You’re good company.”

He smiled, and Sam felt his heart melt a little. They were two months into living together, and Sam’s crush had not dissipated in the slightest. Sometimes he suspected that his feelings were reciprocated. Things would go to hell soon enough, Sam was sure. But for now, they were still in that blissful pre-awkward stage of unresolved tension.

Despite the late hour, the lights were on in the studio. Sam nodded towards the door as they approached. “Maybe it’s your boyfriend in there.”

“Shut up,” Bucky muttered, and the warmth in Sam’s chest cooled slightly as Bucky ducked his head and grinned to himself. 

Bucky’s crush on M’Baku was no secret from Sam. They’d spent a month sitting together in a trio, and while Bucky did a decent job of playing it cool, Sam could always pick up on his tells. The glances held a touch too long, the lilt in his laughter, and that damn smile of his. 

“Don’t act like you’re not crushing on him, too,” Bucky said with a pointed expression. “You’ve offered to  _ clean his tools _ every class so far.”

Bucky wriggled his eyebrows as Sam scowled. “Stop trying to do double entendres. You’re extremely bad at it.”

“You’re the one who said it!”

“Yeah, but not like  _ that!” _

“Shh,” Bucky hissed as they got closer to the door. 

Sam nodded and pushed the door open. He was genuinely surprised to see M’Baku at the sink, washing his hands. 

“Hey man,” Sam called as he held the door open for Bucky. “What are you doing here?”

M’Baku looked pointedly at his soapy hands, then back at Sam. “Is it not obvious?”

“Oh right, my bad. Clearly you’re baking a cake.”

Sam was rewarded with a short chuckle as M’Baku turned back to rinse his hands. 

“I don’t have to ask what  _ you’re  _ doing here,” M’Baku said as he grabbed a paper towel and began to dry his hands. “Yesterday’s vase failure was particularly abysmal.”

“It looked like a dick,” Bucky chimed in from where he’d settled into his own chair with his feet propped up on the edge of his potter’s wheel. 

“It did not,” Sam argued. “If I had made a dick vase, that would have been a victory, not a failure.”

“I didn’t say it looked like a  _ good  _ dick.”

M’Baku let out a burst of laughter. “Please, if you have a dick like that, return it.”

The warmth of M’Baku’s laughter kept Sam smiling as he set up his work space with a lump of clay and a few tools that he hoped would magically gift him the ability to not suck at pottery. Bucky was painting a bowl he’d fired in the kiln earlier in the week. It was slightly lopsided, but he’d managed to mix together a particularly pretty shade of blue paint. 

Sam quickly realized that his plan to get ahead in class was doomed as long as M’Baku was across from him. Watching M’Baku work was extremely distracting. He worked with great concentration, but his face softened as he fell deeper into his work, looking much more relaxed than he usually did. The clay came to life beneath his fingers, bending gracefully beneath his touch. 

“I would say take a picture, it will last longer. But please don’t.”

Blinking, Sam pulled himself from his daydreams to meet M’Baku’s smirk. He looked down at his own potter’s wheel, where his lump of clay rotated sadly. 

“Sorry, I, uh. Was checking out your technique.” He ignored Bucky’s muffled guffaws and tried to save face. “You’ve got skills. Have you done a lot of pottery before?”

“I lived in Santa Fe as a child and was throwing pots by the time I was in grade school.”

“Really?”

“No.”

Bucky laughed harder, and Sam chuckled, too. M’Baku shook his head, but he was smiling.

“I took Fury’s drawing class last semester. I was terrible, and he agreed. But he suggested I try this class instead. He thought I might have a knack for it. I suppose he was right.”

“That’s why we’re here, too,” Bucky added. “We both needed an art credit to graduate. We already know neither of us can draw or paint for shit, figured this might be easier.”

“I mean, it  _ is  _ easier,” Sam admitted. “Believe it or not, my pottery skills are vastly superior to any of my other art skills.”

M’Baku made a face. “That’s extremely hard to believe.”

“Truth, though. But it’s whatever. I just need the credit and a grade that won’t completely fuck over my GPA.”

“Fury will give you points for effort,” Bucky assured him. “Or maybe we can pass off one of my pots as yours.”

“He’ll know it’s not Sam’s,” M’Baku countered. “Even if you tried to make a terrible pot on purpose, it still wouldn’t be as bad as Sam’s best pot.”

“Ouch,” Sam said. “You’re not wrong, but damn.”

M’Baku’s eyes darted down to his wheel, which he had stilled at some point during their conversation. He looked up and glanced between them with a guarded expression.

“I could show you some techniques,” he said hesitantly. “Fury’s a good teacher, but there is only so much you can get done during class. If we met here a few evenings a week, you could get some practice in.”

“That could work,” Bucky said easily, as though he wasn’t elated by their crush inviting them to spend more time together. “I could use the practice, too.”

“You might be able to teach Sam a few things as well,” M’Baku added. “You’re clever with the tools. They might be helpful.”

“Thanks,” Bucky said. “I was worried that I wouldn't be able to do the work, because of my arm. But Fury was cool about accessibility. Sent me a bunch of YouTube videos and got me set up.”

Sam was taken aback. He obviously knew about Bucky’s left arm; a car accident after high school graduation had left him with nerve damage, limited mobility, and scarring. But Bucky had never mentioned to Sam that he had been worried about class. He’d agreed immediately when Sam had suggested they take their art credit together, and had been the one to suggest pottery in the first place.

“It’s settled, then,” M’Baku declared. “We’ll coordinate a schedule to save Sam from failing this blow off class.”

“Maybe we could work out the schedule tomorrow morning,” Bucky suggested. “Over coffee?”

That shit eating grin was back on his face. Sam rolled his eyes, but he was pleased when M’Baku smiled back and nodded in the affirmative.

~ 

“Yeah, that’s it, Sam. Get in there and start rimming.”

Sam threw his hands up in the air as his pot wobbled on his wheel. “Bucky! Will you  _ stop  _ saying that?”

“Stop saying what?” Bucky said innocently. “Rimming? That’s exactly what you’re doing, though. I’m using very professional terminology.”

“I do  _ not  _ believe that professional pottery people use that term,” Sam grumbled.

“The cool ones definitely do.”

“Then since you are decidedly  _ not  _ cool, you should stop saying it.”

“Stop saying what?” M’Baku interjected. “I wasn’t listening.”

“Rimming!” Sam snapped. M’Baku collapsed against the back of his chair, shaking with mirth. Bucky had tears in his eyes as he sat bent over his knees, wheezing laughter. Sam shook his head, but started to snicker along with them.

It was nearly two in the morning; they’d been in the studio since nine the previous evening, and they’d brought a bottle of vodka with them. Anything would have been funny under those circumstances.

Over the last month, they’d spent at least three nights a week in the studio together. M’Baku proved to be very patient, and Bucky had a knack for explaining things. Together, they had improved Sam’s pottery skills significantly.

And they’d become friends. Much of their time in the studio was spent talking. M’Baku had been slow to open up. But Bucky and Sam hadn’t pushed or asked too many questions, and he’d gradually shared more of his life with them as the weeks wore on.

As much as Sam enjoyed their new rapport, it had also caused a significant increase in stress by highlighting just how far gone Sam was in his crushes on both Bucky and M’Baku. Every time Bucky nudged their shoulders together, or M’Baku’s fingers brushed against his, electricity sparked through his veins. And he no longer felt jealous when he noticed the gentle moments between Bucky and M’Baku; instead, he felt a sense of contentment, tinged with a longing for something that he couldn’t quite put into words.

He was aware of polyamory as a concept, of course. But he had no idea how to broach the topic in a way that didn’t sound either sleazy or corny as hell. And neither Bucky nor M’Baku had made a move. So, here they were, slightly buzzed, chairs pulled too close together, talking about rimming at two in the morning.

“The lip of that pot does look very good,” M’Baku admitted. “You’re improving.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Sam replied. “You’ve both been great. I think I’m finally getting the hang of this.”

Bucky reached over and patted a hand on Sam’s knee. “Knew you’d pick it up eventually. Otherwise M’Baku was gonna have to  _ Ghost  _ you.”

“Ghost me?”

“Yeah you know, like in the movie. Sit behind you, wrap you up in his arms, show you how to move your hands.” Bucky hummed a few bars of _ Unchained Melody. _

Sam’s chair screeched against the floor of the studio as he stood up and practically ran over to the sink to wash his hands. His heart thrummed as he rinsed off the soap, then reapplied and scrubbed again. Being wrapped in M’Baku’s arms was a feeling that he did not need in his head right now. 

Once his hands were dried, Sam turned around just in time to hear M’Baku ask, “So, what’s going on between the two of you?”

Bucky’s jaw dropped. Sam was tempted to turn around and wash his hands, again and again until enough time had passed that he would be free from this conversation. Instead, he shrugged and tried to cultivate a casual air as he answered.

“We’re friends.”

“And that’s all?” M’Baku’s flat tone made it clear that he was not fooled.

_ Yes,  _ Sam wanted to say. But his mouth wouldn’t form the words.

“That’s  _ not  _ all?” Bucky sounded hopeful as he locked onto Sam with wide eyes. The tension in Sam’s shoulders relaxed as he smiled and shook his head.

“Nah, that’s not all.” It felt good to say it aloud, especially with the way Bucky was looking at him, without a doubt that he felt the same.

“I figured as much.” M’Baku’s expression hadn’t changed, but his voice was smaller than usual. Sam watched as he took another swig from the vodka bottle, then got up.

“I guess we’re done here,” M’Baku said, pulling out his phone and keeping his eyes locked on the screen.

Sam met Bucky’s gaze and immediately realized they were on the same page. M’Baku wasn’t ever shy about speaking up, but he was deceptively cautious. He weighed his options and liked to have all the facts before sharing his true opinions, and he didn’t generally let his guard down.

But there was vulnerability in the way his shoulders curled inward and his eyes remained downcast. A reaction to the news that Sam and Bucky weren’t just friends. It pained Sam to see him agitated like this, when there was no need.

Boldly, he strode over and rested his hand against M’Baku’s bicep. M’Baku stared down at Sam’s hand, then flitted his gaze up to Sam’s face. He raised an eyebrow, and Sam nodded in reply.

Bucky had joined them; his right hand found the curve of Sam’s waist and nudged him forward. Sam tilted his head and leaned up towards M’Baku, who hesitated only for a moment before bending down to meet Sam’s lips with a contented sigh.

~

The bowl perched on Sam’s potter’s wheel spun round and round; his eyes glazing over as the grooves in the clay blurred together. His classmates’ chatter buzzed behind him, but his triad remained silent.

Blinking his eyes back into focus, Sam checked in on his work station partners. Bucky was using his right hand to pick the bits of dried clay off his scraper with the intensity of performing surgery. M’Baku was focused on the vase spinning on his wheel, shaping and reshaping the lip. His fingers coaxed the clay from one shape to another, then back again.

Flashes of memory from last week ran through Sam’s mind, those same fingers tracing over Sam’s hips, pulling him into M’Baku’s lap as they collapsed together. Bucky behind Sam, kissing his neck. Clothes shedding, lights dimming, frantic gasps and sweat beading against skin.

Bucky set his scraper on the edge of his wheel, then slid off his chair and knelt down to rummage through his backpack. The scraper clattered to the floor when his shoulder bumped it; Sam jumped at the sudden noise, but M’Baku made no acknowledgement. Cursing under his breath, Bucky scooted backwards to grab the scraper.

Bucky had been on his knees last week, too, in front of M’Baku, taking him down. M’Baku’s hands pressed against the wall as he tried not to thrust into Bucky’s mouth. Sam’s hands roaming the soft strength of M’Baku’s back as he slid between those thighs.

There hadn’t been talking then, either, but the silence had felt natural, easy as breathing. The three of them had moved together, an innate choreography. Now, the silence felt louder than any spoken words ever could.

Sam huffed as he stilled his wheel and grabbed a towel to wipe his hands clean. What had gone wrong? He’d had to endure a week’s worth of Bucky avoiding his eyes at the apartment and always having an excuse to keep him from being alone with Sam. M’Baku had drawn inward, refusing to speak or acknowledge either of them.

It was completely ridiculous, and Sam was over it. He threw the towel aside, folded his arms and leaned back in his chair.

“So this is how it’s gonna be?” 

M’Baku remained focused on his vase. Bucky glanced at Sam as he slid back into his chair, but didn’t reply.

“Y’all are a couple of children,” Sam griped. That got M’Baku’s eyes to flash, but he still said nothing. Bucky didn’t speak either, but Sam could tell that he was listening.

“Last week happened. What’s the big deal? We all had a good time. We’ve  _ been  _ having a good time. And now we gotta pretend like nothing’s there?”

The lip of M’Baku’s vase reshaped. Bucky’s eyes darted back and forth between the two of them.

“Let’s go out. On a date.”

That got M’Baku’s attention. He looked at Sam incredulously, his vase forgotten. “A  _ date? _ The three of us?”

Sam grinned. “Yeah, why not? It’ll be fun.”

“I think you mean  _ awkward,” _ M’Baku countered.

“It’s already awkward,” Bucky chimed in. “You can’t tell me you think it could get  _ more  _ awkward than this?”

M’Baku drew his lower lip between his teeth, a slight furrow on his brow as he mulled it over.

“Come on,” Sam said softly. “I’m tired of this. Even if we wind up as just friends at the end of all this, I’m cool with that, too. But why not give it a try?”

“A new cantina opened up just off campus,” Bucky said. “We could check it out. I’m free Friday night.”

“You’re free every night,” Sam grumbled.

“Hopefully not for long.” Bucky gave an exaggerated wink, and Sam rolled his eyes fondly as his heart warmed a bit. It felt good, slipping back into a playful repartee.

M’Baku was clearly trying hard not to smile, but Sam noticed the corners of his mouth twitch. “I could do Friday.”

“Then it’s settled,” Sam declared. “Friday, eight o’clock. We’ll meet at the bus stop and walk downtown together.”

“Works for me,” Bucky said.

“And me,” agreed M’Baku. “Now if that’s settled, can I please have the scraper? Bucky, you’ve been hoarding it all day like it’s a precious artifact.”

“Oh, there’s plenty of scrapers to go around, if that’s what’s holding up your progress.”

Startled, all three of them turned to see Fury standing behind Sam, arms folded and wearing a stern expression.

“Now that your social calendar is sorted out, maybe you three can get back to work. Wilson, you’ve been making good progress lately. Don’t get distracted now.”

“I won’t,” Sam managed to choke out.

Fury’s face was impossible to decipher, but Sam could have sworn he caught a hint of a smile.

~

Turns out, Bucky was right. Whatever awkwardness lingered at the start of the evening dissipated by the time their margaritas and nachos came out. The meal finished off with gentle ribbing and comfortable laughter.

They took their time heading back to the apartment. M’Baku slung his arm around Bucky’s shoulders as they walked, commenting on the passers by and the festive Halloween decorations adorning the shops. Sam held M’Baku’s other hand, swinging it between them when their arms weren’t brushing together.

The post-dinner plan wasn’t discussed. Sam and Bucky’s apartment was the natural destination for the evening. Sam had optimistically put fresh sheets on his bed earlier that day, which he silently congratulated himself on as they fumbled for the key at the front door.

Once inside, they stood in the entryway, each seemingly waiting for someone else to make the first move. Eventually, Bucky cleared his throat.

“We could watch something,” he suggested. “The DVR’s full.”

“We could.” Sam reached out and grabbed Bucky’s right hand, along with M’Baku’s left. He brought both hands up to his lips and kissed each one. “Or we could skip ahead and go to the bedroom.”

Sam was positive they’d all been thinking the same thing; having said it seemed to break the momentary spell of hesitation. He led the way to his bedroom, his heart racing with anticipation.

They stripped quickly, all of them eager to get their hands on one another. M’Baku pulled his shirt over his head, and Sam heard Bucky’s breath hitch. The broad strength of M’Baku’s chest and biceps softened into curves; Sam wanted nothing more than to pull Bucky and himself into those arms and wrap the three of them together.

Bucky’s shoulder nudged against his own, and he flashed a conspiratorial grin, which Sam returned. Together, they walked M’Baku backwards towards the bed and laid him down against the pillows. 

Sam’s eyes followed Bucky as he knelt between M’Baku’s legs, running his hands across the tops of his thighs and tracing kisses in their wake. Settling into the bed, Sam began to kiss M’Baku’s neck and stroke his palms over his chest. M’Baku’s hand curled around Sam’s ass. He squeezed, and Sam gasped into the crook of his neck.

“Love that sound,” Bucky murmured. He paused and smiled up at them. “You two look good together.”

“C’mere.” Sam reached a hand out to help Bucky shimmy his way into M’Baku’s lap. He shifted so Bucky and M’Baku could kiss, palming his dick at the sight of them. Their dicks brushed together between them, glistening with precome.

Sam untangled himself from M’Baku’s arm and stood up. “Keep going,” he said as he rummaged through his dresser drawer. “It’s a gorgeous view.”

“You wanna keep watching?” Bucky asked between kisses. “Or you wanna try something else?”

For the first time that evening, nerves twinged in Sam’s stomach. He hesitated, then decided to just say it. “I wanna get fucked.”

“Holy shit,” Bucky choked out. “Absolutely, yes, I  _ need  _ to see that, please.”

“That can be arranged.” M’Baku sounded as though he were fighting to keep his voice calm, but his eyes roamed over Sam with reverence. He wrapped one arm around Bucky, and with one swift motion hefted Bucky gently onto his back, hovering above him. One last kiss dropped to Bucky’s forehead, then M’Baku moved to stand at the end of the bed.

He took the lube from Sam and nudged him towards the bed. “Get comfortable. I’ll take care of you.”

It wasn’t an order. Sam heard the question behind the words, acknowledging it with a smile. He straddled Bucky on the bed and kissed him once, long and dirty, before kissing his way across Bucky’s torso and down his stomach, then up the shaft of his dick, circling the head with his tongue. He took it down his throat in one sudden movement as Bucky cried out, then pulled back and focused on the head.

Behind him, two slick fingers circled his hole, then eased in. M’Baku’s other hand was firm against his hip. Sam moaned as his tongue flicked the underhead of Bucky’s dick. He fucked himself often enough that he didn’t need much prep, but he loved being fingered, and M’Baku’s were thick enough to provide the perfect friction against his rim, even with the lube. His movements were careful, steadying as Sam relaxed into his touch. 

“Gorgeous,” Bucky murmured. His right hand reached up to brush against Sam’s cheek. Sam saw his eyes float behind him to M’Baku as he smiled.

“This view is not bad either,” M’Baku said. Sam heard the smile in his voice. His fingers were gone, replaced by the head of his dick. Both hands were on Sam’s hips now, his thumbs moving in slow circles as he eased his way in. Sam rocked back against him; M’Baku’s grip tightened as his breathing went uneven for a moment.

The stiff fingers of Bucky’s left hand rested loosely over Sam’s; Sam flipped his palm so their hands could clasp together without discomfort. The three of them moved together in a rhythm, M’Baku’s thrusting into Sam in time with Sam’s movements on Bucky’s dick. Sam’s own dick was hard and leaking against his stomach; he wanted desperately to stroke himself, but he didn’t want to let go of Bucky’s hand or distract himself from M’Baku’s touch.

M’Baku’s breath stuttered, and he pulled out of Sam, slowly so that Sam could feel every inch. He pressed his dick against Sam’s ass and squeezed his cheeks together.

“Can I?” he asked.

Sam licked the precome from his lips as he pulled away from Bucky’s dick and nodded. “Yeah, please.”

The silky sounds of M’Baku jerking himself off were pushing Sam closer to the edge. Evidently it had a similar effect on Bucky. His left hand remained clasped with Sam’s; his right moved to the shaft of his dick, wet with precome and Sam’s spit.

A muttered curse tumbled from M’Baku’s lips as he spilled over Sam’s ass, sticky and warm as it slid between his cheeks. Sam felt M’Baku’s fingers run through it, digging into the skin as they gathered the mess, then wrapped firmly around Sam’s dick.

He moaned as M’Baku shifted to press against his back, kissing his shoulders as he worked Sam over, sloppy as his come mingled with the slickness already there. Sam mouthed at the head of Bucky’s dick, smearing the precome and spit.

“Fuck,” Bucky gasped. He came in spurts over Sam’s face, across his lips and chin. M’Baku’s grip tightened around Sam as Bucky’s fingers traced Sam’s lips, then slid between them. Sam took them into his mouth, sucked them clean as Bucky watched with hooded eyes and M’Baku buried his face into the crook of Sam’s neck.

And that’s how Sam came, with Bucky’s taste on his lips and M’Baku’s kisses against his skin.

~

Angela Abar strode across the television as Sam increased the volume. He set the remote back on the coffee table, careful not to knee M’Baku too hard as he settled back against the couch. It was really more of a loveseat, and it was a tight fit. M’Baku sat in the middle, with Bucky tucked under one arm. Sam was on the right, with his legs draped over them both. 

They’d changed into an assortment of boxers and tshirts. Sam and Bucky had sorted through their laundry for the largest garments they could find, but M’Baku’s shirt was still a little tight. Not that Sam minded; it was a cute look.

“You’re going to need a bigger couch,” M’Baku commented.

“Nah.” Bucky snuggled against M’Baku and ran a hand over Sam’s bare knee. “This is the perfect size.”

Sam laughed. “I agree,” he said, taking M’Baku’s hand in his own and resting it against his chest. “Absolutely perfect.”


End file.
